Empty Words
by Darkchipmunkstories
Summary: There is more to grief than being "sad." Anger, jealousy, hatred, and even accusing those around you seem to be a few. Alvin has to learn this the hard way.


"Dear reader, I wish I could tell you that this ends well. Damn it, I wish I could tell you that everything will end okay. I wish that you'd get a happy ending and a sense of pride at having finished a good story. No one wishes more than I do that I could tell you, in honesty, everything worked out. Unfortunately, that's not how this goes…"  
A quick paced rasping sound at the door interrupted the scrawling writer. "Alvin, we're leaving," Dave stated through the closed door still as monotone as he had been for the last couple of days. Slowly pulling himself up off of his bed, the aforementioned thirteen-year-old boy gave himself the once over in the mirror. Donned in a fitted suit, Alvin scanned his clothes to make sure that there were no imperfections. Straightening his jacket twice before giving up, the boy looked into his own eyes. A faded blue instead of his electric blue tinted his irises. Even his pupils seemed less lively. The heavy bags under his eyes were just as prominent as they had been only four days prior.  
Picking up his journal again, Alvin made his way to the bedroom door and turned the knob slowly. Entering the hallway, he found himself alone, the room across from his stood just as vacant as a forgotten home. Forcefully pulling his eyes from the shut door across from him, Alvin started to shuffle his way down the stairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs didn't stop the teenager's journey. He pushed past the "wanna-be" sincere words of sympathy from the family-filled living room. He didn't want to hear it.  
Slamming open the front door, Alvin stomped towards the car and slumped himself in one of the back seats. Pulling his journal out and finding his spot once again, Alvin pulled his pencil out.  
"I was told that I should write about how I feel, but I don't feel anything except anger right now. So, I'll write that. I'm mad, to say the least, at anyone giving me attention. Normally, I love attention. I would do whatever it took to get someone to look at me, but no one is looking at me anymore, really. Everyone is looking down on me now. I'm the one "milking" this. Of course, no one has said that, that's just how I feel. Everyone puts their hands on my shoulder and tells me that they "can't imagine what your going through," but they don't understand the worst of it. They don't understand what it's like to not want to talk to them. I don't want anything to do with them, I just want to talk to him. I want him to tell me that I'm being a baby, like I know he would. I want to hear the sarcasm and the somehow audible eye roll when he tells me that I need to grow up. He'd say that I need to consider other people's feelings, but screw them. They've never gone through this. Not like this…"  
A click from the opening car door on his other side left Alvin slamming his journal shut and sliding it into his jacket. Everyone knew he had the notebook, Theodore was even given one too, but something about it felt… weak to this specific child. Alvin was always known for his tough guy and nonchalant attitude. Writing in a diary like a baby, even worse, like a girl, made him feel less than himself. Not that he felt much like himself lately anyway.  
Silently, Alvin watched as Dave opened the driver door and took his seat. The engine came to life as Theodore jumped up onto his knees to look out the back windshield. "Isn't Grandma coming with us?" Glancing up at the rear-view mirror on his side of the car, Alvin saw his Grandma sliding into the passenger seat of the car parked behind theirs.  
"She'll meet us there, Theodore. Please sit down and buckle up. We've got to get going." Dropping his chin into his hand, Alvin took to staring out the window. The silence coming from the empty seat between the two brothers was deafening and left Alvin fighting angrily with his emotions. He wasn't going to cry today if it killed him. The click of Theodore's seat belt signaled Dave to put the car in drive and to start their journey.  
Seeing that Theodore had taken to staring out the window too, Alvin angled his body best he could to be able to pull out his journal without being noticed. Flipping to his half-used page, his pencil started scribbling slowly to avoid making any sound on the paper.  
"I don't feel angry right now. I just feel, I don't know, bored? I don't know how to explain it. He would though. He always did. Dave said it's good to talk about him because it brings a peace of mind or whatever. I get to see him one more time today. I almost asked not to go because I promised myself that I wouldn't cry in front of anyone and seeing him – It's going to be hard but I should be able to manage. As long as no one tries to comfort me with their… dull words. "Empty words" probably fits better. They are empty words. Even if they feel sorry for me, they don't feel it…"  
The car gave a jolt to signify the trio's arrival at their destination. Quickly replacing his book in the inner pocket on his jacket, Alvin looked over at Theodore. Apparently, he had been trying to hide himself as well as tears stained his furry face. Glancing away as his brother looked from the window, Alvin studied his shiny, black shoes. He didn't want his brother to feel embarrassed, sure, but he was worried that if he saw someone else cry, he might give in too.  
The silence continued for at least a minute. No one moved, it was too real if they were to get out of the car. Walking through those doors would be the last time they saw the middle Seville and really, how could anyone prepare for that. Knowing for a fact that you'd never see someone ever again. What a feeling.  
Voice no longer monotone, rather shaking, Dave finally broke the silence, "Well, boys, are you ready?" Of course, they weren't. No one could truly ever be, but everything was happening now, so they needed to be. All three car doors seemed to open at the same time, but each occupant got out sporadically. Alvin was the first to hop out, checking to ensure his journal wouldn't slip from its hiding place. Theodore wiped his eyes violently on his sleeve before sliding down out of the car. He glanced up at his father after he shut his own door. Dave had his forehead resting on the steering wheel and his breath was uneven. The youngest child reached his hand up to grabbed his father's, of which was still gripping the wheel.  
"It's time to go, Dave." Nodding slowly Dave returned a gripped hand to his young son's. Making his way around the car, Dave found Alvin leaning against the mentioned vehicle. The distraught man reached his hand down to his other son wanting the affection from both of them, but Alvin shoved his hands deep into his pockets and started making his way towards the funeral home.  
"Empty," Alvin whispered to himself already trying to will away any visible emotion. Stomping his way up the sidewalk, the solemn boy instantly noticed the change in atmosphere when he opened the door. Only seconds before he pushed into the room, he could hear the muffled chatter of everyone conversing, but just when he was noticed everyone went silent. Only moments after the shock of seeing none other than Alvin walk through the door, he was instantly surrounded. Family members that he had never even heard from nor seen were clapping their hands irritatingly on his shoulders and back. He blocked out their words the best that he could. He didn't want to remember why he was there in the first place. Dave pressed into the room accompanied by Theodore soon after, and the crowd began to shift to the other two family members.  
Arms crossed; Alvin looked ahead of himself. Not fifteen feet ahead of him sat the awful box that he had decided that he had no interest in. He wasn't going to look in that box if he had to glue himself to his chair. No one could make it real. He didn't want it to be real. Slowly making his way to the front, careful to avert his eyes, the child sat himself in his specified seat. Glancing around, Alvin took note that no one was anywhere near him. He slipped his journal into his lap and quickly scribbled, "Crying won't make it better, you need to stay strong and not be a baby." Thinking some, he scribbled out his sentence. Trying again, he wrote, "He would tell me to cry because it'd be good for me. He'd want me to let it out so I didn't hurt myself by bottling it up, but he's not the one who has to go through all of this, is he?"  
Angrily slamming his journal shut, Alvin nearly tore his pocket shoving the book into it. "Alvin, come here." Turning nearly teary eyes to his father, the irritated boy shook his head. Dave already had Theodore held in his arms, it was anyone's guess that they were going up to the casket. He'd already promised himself that nothing would get Alvin Seville to look in that casket. Nothing.  
Dave tried unsuccessfully to pull his son up by his jacket donned upper arm, but was only met with getting his hand shaken off. Kneeling down in front of the confused teenager, Dave spoke "I know what you're thinking, but you have to hear me out on this, buddy. This is the last time, your last chance to see him. It's hard because that means you have to accept it. I know what you're thinking. Do you think this is fun for me? Or for Theodore? We lost the same person from our lives. He meant different things to each of us, but you can't deny yourself this closure. You need it as much as you want to deny it."  
"I don't need anything but to be left alone." Alvin whispered scrubbing his vision clear of tears once again. They weren't going to spill out, he'd promised, "Why would I want to see him like this?" Slightly calmer, Alvin starter to ponder allowed, "Why would I want my last memory of- of him to be him lying d-. That's not even him, it's only his body." Shaking his head violently, Alvin jumped to his feet. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, I- I want to forget!"  
"Forget what? About your brother? You don't want to remember him? Or who he was?" Gritting his teeth, Alvin sank to the floor. He wanted to hide; no doubt people were starting to watch them with those awful, pitiful expressions on their unphased faces. They could never feel as distraught as he did.  
"I don't kno- I just want to forget this happened!" Taking a couple deep breaths, Alvin added "Why would I ever want to forget him?" A quick change of mind, Alvin stood to his feet, "Because he was arrogant, sarcastic, and an over all a jerk?"  
Grabbing his son's arm, a little tighter than he had planned, Dave pulled Alvin up to meet his eyes, "I know you are going through something extremely emotional Alvin, but he was a great kid and certainly a good brother. Don't ever let yourself think you despised him. It's a coping mechanism to relieve the grief. He loved you so, so much, you owe him at least that much. You have no right to hate him." Ripping his arm from his father's grip once again, Alvin glared daggers into the man's face.  
"Fine then. Think what you want and leave me alone," Plopping once again into his chair, Alvin crossed his arms and looked away from his father.  
"Please come with us, Alvin," Theodore's shaky and hollow voice came barely audible to the other boy's ears. Wiggling from his father's hold, Theodore peered around his brother to get his attention. Sticking his hand out for Alvin to grip, the younger continued, "I don't want to go without you."  
Sighing animatedly, the chipmunk in question slid out of his chair and grasped his brother's hand lightly, "Fine, you guys win." Walking slowly up to the half open box, the duo of brothers took their time. As long as they didn't look in the box it never happened, but if they never did, they'd feel lost.  
Finally getting himself to peek into the casket, left Alvin slamming a hand to his mouth. "I promised," He whispered to solely himself. Theodore pulled himself to his tiptoes to look at his brother lying still in the casket. Theodore looked up at his older brother's only spoken word at the sight, "Simon" Heart shattering for only the second time in the last couple days, Alvin switched to gripping the edge of his brother's resting place. How was it that he felt actual, physical, completely unbearable pain by simply looking at his lifeless brother? He'd known what happened. He knew the entire story, where, when, how, why, but yet he felt desperate tears staining his cheeks and white shirt. A hand returned to hold his mouth to muffle his obvious pain ridden moans, while the other was now held to his aching heart. Never had he found himself sobbing so violently.  
Only a matter of seconds left the boy feeling resentment yet again. No doubt, every single eye in the room was on him and his family. He wanted to yell at them, tell them to mind their own business. They didn't lose Simon, they had barely even known him, if even. Alvin thought back on how he saw his brother nearly every day of his life and half of these people probably didn't even know his favorite Johnny Cash song or how many scary stories the older brothers shared together. No one else knew that Thomas Edison was whom Simon idolized most and no one knew how quick he was to help anyone in need. These people didn't know him, so who gave them the right to come and watch those who did know him bawl their heart out. Who gave them the right to even grieve him? He was not theirs to lose. Alvin looked behind him to confirm his suspicions. Eyes were on him.  
Turning back to his fallen brother, Alvin felt the stabbing pain in his chest again, but couldn't get himself to look away. Simon was supposed to go on to win a Nobel Prize, he was supposed to get offered full rides to college, he was supposed to be here for his family. A tap on his shoulder pulled the oldest out of his thoughts. He glanced up to see his father, tear stained as well, trying to usher him away. Glancing one last time at his brother, Alvin sneered at the next people in line who were waiting to see the empty and bare expression now donned on the middle Seville brother's face. Alvin had never seen them before, yet they had the audacity to be wiping away a few stray tears.  
Stomping back to his seat, Alvin ripped his journal back out no longer caring who saw him with it, and began to write. "How am I supposed to be feeling right now? Sad is a given, but angry wasn't apart of it. These people don't care, they are just crying to cry. I broke my promise to myself. I cried, but I don't care anymore. These people don't know what I'm going through. Their fake sympathy doesn't console the fact that I just lost my best friend." Closing the journal to avoid staining the pages with his tears, Alvin placed it one last time in his jacket.


End file.
